


many a small thing has become large

by AceJames



Series: many a small thing [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (Happy dad Clarus), (Noctis stop punching your dads kidneys to highfive your other dad it hurts), AFAB Noctis, AFAB Regis, Body Dysphoria, Canon Disabled Character, Clarus getting hit in the face, Clarus sort of being smitten from the start, Cute Kids, Easy Pregancy, Fight him, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Gender Dysphoria, Gladiolus belongs to Regis, Growing Up Together, Ignis being kidnapped, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Light BDSM, Look he was 5 it was ok, M/M, Oral Sex, Parent-Child Relationship, Petty Regis, Pregnancy, Premature Ejaculation, Regis's temper, Sibling Rivalry, Size Difference, Size Kink, Teenage sexuality, Topping from the Bottom, Trans Iris, Trans Noctis, Trans Regis, Transphobia, Vascetomy, child rearing, clarus carrying regis like a child, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceJames/pseuds/AceJames
Summary: "You don't have to tell me what's wrong," Clarus says amicably, brushing through his hair again while he sits cross-legged and smiles at him like he isn't just simmering away, "but I do want to know, Reg." He pokes him in the forehead and laughs short and pleased when the crown prince smacks his hand away."You," he mumbles, "you're my problem.""Really now, what did I do this time?"Regis hates the amusement he hears and gives him a firm look.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically snap shots involving the fact that Clarus and Regis are fucking stupidly in love. Also that Clarus is huge and Regis is smol

1  
Clarus is large, he thinks, peering up at the ten year old with mild distaste and his own annoyance at his Father for not standing up to the woman who stuck him in the flowing pink dress with shimmery fabric that trailed behind him. 

She had not gotten the memo that Regis was no girl or even more likely, she didn't care what a five year old proclaimed no matter how much he fought it. Princess, he hears her voice ringing in his head and snarls in a very unbecoming way for a young prince and truly wished his father would send the woman away before he made her leave.

But, the boy before him is larger than any other child his age and he knows who he is only by his name. He is the son of his Father's shield - this boy would be his. They were to be married, had been since Regis could remember, but he was never particularly fond of the idea.

Shoulders square as the other bows before him and introduces himself properly. He's not sure what to think of it, but anger lifts as he hears, "Prince Regis, may I accompany you to perhaps get out of that monstrosity?" He's not sure what to say about what had come out of the other's mouth, but for the first time in that day, Regis smiles.

"Yes." 

Faintly, from somewhere close to his father and his shield, he hears one of them comment on how they knew it would be fine. He doesn't stick around to know what was going to be fine as he wants to be out of this dress as fast as possible. 

Clarus tries to stay a half step behind him, but more than once ends up a good six feet ahead of him, causing the prince to scowl.

"Slow down!" He demands, voice echoing through the empty halls, "I'm not a giant!"

"You certainly aren't." The other boy stops and turns on his heel to move to settle in front of Regis, smiling down at him before he leans down and picks him up without asking. He would have snarled and whacked Clarus for such a bold move, but as he finds his face pressed against the other's neck he finds himself sinking into the grip and relaxing himself there. 

"It is faster if I carry you," the Amicitia boy explains, placing a hand on the back of his head and speeding up. "The faster we get you changed, the faster you'll look less like an angry cat, Highness."

From where he's pressed himself, Regis snorts and hits the ten year old lightly in the shoulder for calling him a name, but he doesn't snap or anything but stay there sedated as his Shield - and Clarus would be his, he already decided that - hurried to get him changed.

 

2  
Five years later, when the Prince is learning from Clarus and on his back from being smacked down hard with a wooden sword, Regis realizes that the teen would always tower over him. He never actually thought about it until he watches him quietly from where he sprawled, but when it hits him, he closes his eyes and curses out loud. 

There were still slip ups, he knows now that it is human error and people didn't understand that no heir to the throne was ever to be a woman -- but he's never actually found himself dreading when his body would start changing from the comfortable androgyny of youth and instead provide him with the curves of a woman, until right that moment where he sees his Shield standing tall and it all sinks in far too fast for Regis's liking.

Clarus just sits next to him and waits for his prince to say something, but Regis isn't sure how to express that he's jealous that no one would ever mistake the Amicitia for a woman. That he would never have to deal with the curves or the blood that would eventually come and make his life hell for a week. He finds a hand brushing black bangs from his eyes suddenly, fingers dragging against his skin and Regis melts against the floor from how nice that had felt.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," Clarus says amicably, brushing through his hair again while he sits cross-legged and smiles at him like he isn't just simmering away, "but I do want to know, Reg." He pokes him in the forehead and laughs short and pleased when the crown prince smacks his hand away.

"You," he mumbles, "you're my problem." 

"Really now, what did I do this time?" 

Regis hates the amusement he hears and gives him a firm look. 

"You're... large," Regis tells him, covering his eyes with the back of his arm, "you're going to always be bigger than me and it bothers me."

Clarus just sighs at him in return and carefully plucks the arm away from his face so he could gather the suddenly hissing prince to his chest and hold him there firmly. "I'm larger than you because I'm your shield," Regis hears him explain, as he had every time the teenager's stature was brought up before, "but I doubt anyone notices, Regis, you fill a room far more than I do." 

Regis stops his struggling and thinks about what he's told. The prince sighs and gently whacks at the arms wrapped around him. "We should get back to training," he finally says and Clarus snorts, but they return to it.

Two nights later, he stands tall - as tall as he can being under five feet even with heeled shoes - and watches the room watch him. He's to say something to everyone there, speak highly of his father and greet each and every person that had come to dinner. Clarus is always a step behind him no matter what part of his part of the function he is doing. But, it is as he makes the rounds, greeting people and that more than once he realizes that no one actually looks at his shadow, only him.

Then, when someone did acknowledge Clarus (and it was only one person), it was to ask when the wedding to Regis was - if there were still to be one due to the Royal Heirs being a male. He was ten, he had no thoughts on if he were to marry or why should he even bother and had been about to unleash some biting words when Clarus had covered the Prince's mouth, stopping the litany preemptively and politely excused them. 

He bites the hand over his mouth, tasting blood and not letting go as he glares up at Clarus with the embers of new wave of rage began to form in his eyes. The teenager just smiles with his teeth bared and hair hanging into his eyes. It shouldn't disarm him, but it does and he simmers down and leans against his shield as they stand out in the cool air of the night on a balcony not far from the party.

"You can't keep doing that," Clarus chides him and looks down at him with an expression he caught on others faces earlier. He thinks he understands what Clarus meant about his size and instead of snapping at the teen, he just pouts and kicks a stone, listening to it hit the stone below with a sense of satisfaction. 

"I can," Regis tells him bluntly, ignoring Clarus brushing more hair from his face. 

(He doesn't know why Clarus has been doing that more and anytime he asks he gets a grin and a pat on his head from a large hand. He doesn't mind it, not really, but it is weird.)

"But who will serve you after you've scared them all off?" There is a smug smirk on his Shield's face, daring him to try and come back at him with his words.

"You will." 

There is no hesitation in his words and he feels his shield pauses his hand, then hears a fond murmur seconds later of, "well, you're not wrong."

3  
One of the first things Regis realizes at thirteen, is that he has issues with not staring at his friend when he was shirtless and training outside. More than once he's had to close the blinds to the window in his room just to get anything done. Hell, even that doesn't stop him from peeking sometimes. He feels like a pervert, like one of the other students at school who have been caught peeping on the opposite gender's locker room.

It's not like he could even tell Clarus to leave him alone, even a royal order wouldn't stop him from being nearby. So he suffers silently and tries so hard not to injure himself with being distracted during a fight.

He chalks it up to Clarus being his shield -- He's supposed to even eventually marry the man (and he is one now, flaunting the large and ornate bird that every Amicitia shield has adorning his body and sometimes Regis finds he wants to bite where the black lines meet unmarked skin), though he's still not sure if he even wants to marry anyone. 

His mother watching his father wither is enough to make him want to never put someone through that. An heir without a spouse would be fine and the child would be loved and cherished as if he were two instead of one. Clarus would be there too, the other father hopefully.

(His father, greying at his temples and his shaking hands from fatigue of the wall sucking his life out every minute of every day, always rolls his kind blue-green eyes whenever Regis tries to suggest it might be a better move to not marry, tells him _you'll understand why it's not, my son, when you least expect it_.

He hasn't given much thought to the other comments of that he'd still be putting _someone else_ through the same thing, married or not.)

Once, he calls Clarus to help him do up the binder he's been wearing often enough to mask the budding breasts, his arms cramping from the awkward angle that they need to be for each clasp to be done and the man walked in just putting his shirt back on. There is sweat slick ink, curving down and along his collar and underneath the shirt and Regis' mouth goes dry. His fingers slip and yelps at the pinch he gets for his mistake. He hears a chuckle and Clarus bats his fingers away from the latches and does it up quickly.

"You have other people to help you with this, Regis." Clarus tells him with a snicker, though he reaches down and starts to do up the black button up shirt for him. The fabric is smoothed under large fingers and a low sigh leaves the prince, before he nods and presses down against the stinging skin just to remind him of other things.

"You were here," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "You're always here."

"I know."

He stares dazed at the older male and then reaches up to put pressure the best he could on Clarus's shoulders while on the balls of his feet. He buckles easily, folding himself to his knees and it makes Regis smile, a slight thing that is barely more than hthe corners of his lips twitching upward. He smoothes his face shortly after and scrutinizes everything he could about the kneeling man's face. It's not going to be the last time he sees it, he knows, but it still feels like it could be in a way and that alarms him.

"What's wrong?" Clarus prods, but Regis doesn't bother to answer and instead leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his mouth. He sighs against the other's mouth and whatever brief worry there was aboit losing his Shield there was is gone. The Amicitia has frozen and blinks a few times as Regis knows its time that they start going to meet his father for the meeting they would both be attending. He is already moving towards the door, heeled shoes boosting him slightly in height and click loudly with every step.

"Are you coming?" Regis asks, looking over his shoulder, watching Clarus's mind finally catch up and scrambles to his feet. Regis shrugs, shoulders rolling slowly before continuing his way out.

(Maybe, he gets what his father's point is now and will just bury the understanding under other things he doesn't want to think heavily about just yet.)

 

4  
Slamming Clarus against the floor, knotting his hand in the front of his shirt and biting his lips bloody is his new favourite thing to do, he decides at fifteen, because Clarus shivers under his hands and makes the sweetest begging sounds for him. He's never expected him to be so willing to bend for him, so willing to listen and give him a gift that is beyond anything else. But he does and he thinks it's all because his life belongs to Regis and there's nothing more he could want in life. The prince doesn't understand it, not properly, but he accepts it and uses it to his advantage. Clarus could easily turn this around on him, push him onto the floor and hold him there with no effort, but he doesn't and the knowledge is always enough to make him always want to do it.

"Regis," Clarus begs and Regis just presses his weight down onto his cock with a little more of a vengeance. He starts a rhythm, hips rolling and wonders how much effort it will take to open up for the man. He's not small - in anything really, but Regis is a teenaged boy with stubble finally lining his chin, he's done his fair share of looking so he knows that the Amicitia has a dick large enough that most sane people would shy away from. 

Regis loves it.

He knows that it will be a challenge for him to be able to take it, as much of one as he knows he'll be watching when Clarus get to his feet and with legs shaking and tries to leave to retreat after this, wanting take care of his own erection somewhere he can't see. The sight of it always gives him more satisfaction than he thinks he really wants to admit to. 

He's narrow hipped and though he is deadly, he can admit that he's still small, but steady and solid Clarus crying out, begging him to do more to him always struck a chord in him, reminding him of that little comment on him being much bigger than he realizes. 

He wants to rip Clarus' pants open, fish for the length and feel it burning in his hand. He won't, not yet, not out of fear or worry, but because he wants to see how far he can take Clarus before his curious sadism breaks into pity and all encompassing want.

Regis thinks he'll have to get something to help him prepare for the eventual, because he's already tight around his own thin fingers, when he indulges himself after the lights go out, and no matter how wet he is, it's a challenge to fit two fingers inside of him. Clarus is just larger than one of his fist around and it never fails to send a spark of lightning down his spine. And one of his Shield's fingers is as thick as two of his own and he has no doubt that not trying to loosen himself up before would cause a lot of questions involving him being seen by a doctor and why he can't sit down without an inflatable doughnut under him. 

It doesn't stop Regis from thinking about it though, wondering about slamming himself down and taking it all at once, because he can't help himself with wanting. Clarus is his, his shield and the man he's going to always keep next to him and he is shameless with how blatantly he wants. 

He rolls his hips sharply, the seam of his pants catching just right, has him arching his back and planting his hands on his stomach, blunt nails digging into the muscles and enjoying every jump of them. He clenches down on nothing out of reflex and sighs, rolling his hips back to repeat it.

"Regis, _please_ ," finally reaches his ears and his gaze fixates on the open want he can see etched into the other's face. There's another half-thrust, where he catches himself and forces his hips to stay still.

All Regis can think is how handsome he looks with his mouth red with blood, panting and the wetness forming in the corners of his eyes. His hair was a mess, some edges stuck to his lips as he heaved with exertion. 

He gets off of his perch, sitting next to him like he wasn't phased (he was and had a feeling he would need to discreetly wash his sheets after he was done) and gives a snort when Clarus starts to sit up to chase him, getting his arms around the prince and dragging him in.

"No," he says softly, sweetly, hand going to brush the hair out of his face and thumb catching a tear to smear it across his cheekbone. Clarus whines at him, desperate and perfect. "Clarus, I said no." He subsides and Regis smiles at the way he pants into his shoulder, trembles with how much he wants but won't ever go against what he said.

Later, Regis is sitting at his work desk tongue caught between his teeth as he tries to focus on the papers before him and not what a pretty mess Clarus had become. It's only when he feels a hand brushing the hair at the base of his neck away so it could cup around the nape, that he gives into the knowledge he was going to get nothing done. 

Smiling as bright as the sun, he finds that Clarus has a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping and face lax. The hand is steady and nice and the fact that he knows that the owner of it was his. It makes him shiver.

"You're not changed yet," is what Regis hears, the hand squeezing lightly and the man sighs at him. "You know I can't stay all night, I have to be on shift in two hours."

Almost, Regis wants to point out that he'd be excused from his Crownsguard duty if he just told them that the prince had asked him to stay, but he knows that argument only works when it's a shift he doesn't like. He knows this one is not one of those and laments that Clarus won't be there for him to snuffle against or wake up to in the morning.

He thinks it's lucky that no one questions why the Amicitia spends some nights in the Prince's room, though he suspects that it's because of the arranged marriage that a most turn blind eye is turned towards it. Yet, Regis will not look a gift horse in the mouth and begins to stand and unbutton his shirt. He would be a monster to everyone if he doesn't anyways, voice sharp and tongue dipped in steel ready like any blade he could get his hands on. 

More comfortable to fall asleep curled against his shield anyways, than to fall asleep alone.

5  
Regis has dark hair matted to his brow and his mouth hanging open as he sinks a little further down Clarus's dick. He knows Clarus is begging already and has frustrated tears clinging to his eyelashes, but Regis only smiles serenely down at him, knowing how it was driving his Shield crazy. He's going slow, slow enough that he feels the burn of muscles opening up when he lifts up and comes back down a little further. Middle finger rubbing slowly side to side over his clit, letting the pleasure help him along in relaxing and taking more into him. 

He's never felt this stretched before, not even the first time Clarus knocked his smaller hands away from his sopping cunt and dipped two fingers deep, deep into him, both much wider than the Prince's own, felt like this. 

(He came so fast that day, Clarus's thumb grinding into his clit while the two digits inside of him ground up, up into him and only stopped after he gushed around them and begged for no more. Twice he came and Clarus had taken so much pride in it, knowing what Regis did. He had trouble getting himself off most times, but Clarus had done it with little effort. He only got an hours reprieve before Clarus had asked to do it again, blue eyes focused and wanting, like being able to push Regis off the edge of pleasure was his greatest accomplishment, that not even the hours before where Clarus had drawn magic from him successfully for the first time was really even on the same scale. 

Regis told him yes, to go on and laughs when Clarus asks him to trust him and promptly tried to see how many times he could get the prince to come. 

The bedding had been soaked through by the time he begs for release and Regis was more than a little embarrassed because he had no idea he could do that, that his body could ejaculate so much and how often it would come when his Shield was playing with his over stimulated cunt. How some hit the other's chest at one point and the way Clarus looked down at him with something almost predatory in his blue eyes. 

Clarus had just smirked at him and did the work in changing the sheets as Regis fought to keep standing on shaking legs.)

Lifting himself up slightly, curving a hand around the headrest of the back seat he moans loud. The place they are parked is empty - perfectly, blissfully empty and the wind carries any sound off as soon as it's made. The Regalia's seats will need a cleaning after this is all over, he thinks, enjoying the way the older man turns his head against the leather, biting already red lips. It's warm, even with the hood down and partially undressed under the night's cover. 

Lowering himself back down is easier and wetly gasps as Clarus's snaps his hips up and presses the last inch into him too fast and too hard. He can't breathe and claws at the leather before he realizes that Clarus has his hands on his hips to hold him there. They bite half-moons into the skin, Regis nods his head slowly at his Shield, whispering, "go on then," and lets him fuck up into his hole after Clarus asks on the trail of a wheeze.

He's loud and takes and takes and takes until he feels the need to bare his teeth at his Shield, hissing that he had to slow down and wait. A thumb is ground against his clit, making him yelp and whine and forgives Clarus only a little in that he doesn't listen. It must be too much for him as he feels the others hips stutter and the condom swell inside of him, leaving Clarus to babble apologies at him. 

Regis feels the cock soften inside of him and he wonders if he'll ever close up properly again. He's not given enough of a chance to think more on it as his Amicitia whines his name and says _please let me, I'm so sorry Regis_ leaving Regis breathless and wanting. He winces as both the heavy condom and the soft - but still large - cock leaves him and he's panting for a few seconds before he feels the eager hands tug at him to move him up.

There's a lot of maneuvering and Regis positively growls as he hears boots scratch against the door's paint as Clarus has to hook his legs out the rolled-down window for there to be enough room for Regis's thighs to bracket the sides of the man's head and not be pressed painfully up against the other door. Regis doesn't even have to tell Clarus to get to work as he's already there licking between his inner folds and tracing how wide he's stretched open, red and swollen undoubtedly. It's not long before he has his hands holding himself up against the headrests of both sets of seats. Clarus already has his hands cupped around the back of his thighs, pulling him down licking and tasting and making sounds like it's him who's getting eaten out. 

Clarus doesn't stop even after the first orgasm hits, it's only until just after the second that he orders him to stop with slick on his cheeks and allows himself to be manhandled on top of the much larger body with only a short protest. A hand is cradled against the back of his head and fingers sift through his hair almost as an after thought. 

He's sore the days after and he knows his cunt gapes open no matter what he does, red and worked raw and he loves it. He has sat in the bath, alone, feeling it and being in awe of the fact that he managed to do it. It doesn't help that he sort of loves the smug look Clarus has every time he has to rearrange himself on a seat or he's sprawled back against the pillows letting the man push two fingers deep into him and swearing whenever he finds a third one would fit so easily.

It's worth it, he thinks, not waiting until they were actually married.

(Maybe he was right for a different reason.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /sobs I'm not even close to being done

6  
They don't have much time on the road, fighting on the frontlines and fleeting privacy.

Cor looks unimpressed in the rearview any time Clarus even tilts his head close to the prince to whisper something and Cid and Weskham take turns not letting them sit together in the back seat for too long, in case there is another attempt at Regis wrapping his hand around the man's cock and stroking it with them all right there.

(Regis didn't actually realize what he was doing until it was too late, sleepy and needy for the other's affection poured on him. He was lucky it was Cid who catches him and not the teen next to him with his head thrown back, snoring away.

No one believes him when he says and means that it wasn't on purpose, least of all Clarus.)

When they do have a little time to spare, they don't bother with anything but warm hands, skin and deep sleep that leaves them both more pleasant to deal with in the morning. They whisper love and worries on the road and more than once Clarus has whisker burn on his neck, high enough that it's hard not to know what they were doing with their brief privacy. 

7  
He's crowned King a few years before there was a large mistake made that had him stop the royal wedding plans and spend the next half a year hissing at his shield. Keeping his distance and not once showing any face but the King to him, it takes a toll on him, both his anger and the wall and notices then the first sign of what the wall would take from him day-by-day.

Regis doesn't know when it happened, doesn't want to know too many details beyond the fact that Clarus had been completely shitfaced for it and he had snapped something horrible at him hours earlier, making the man need air. He didn't want to know the name of woman he had fallen into bed with and resulted in a child.

Gladiolus with his big brown eyes and nose that twitched whenever the king spoke. He finds himself charmed by the newborn, knowing easily that it wasn't the boy who made the mistake, no matter how cute the mistake is. He makes fire dance before his eyes, watched the awed boy reach out for them and tuts when the baby gets to close to burning himself or wails when he swats his hand gently away.

More than once (as often as he found himself able, really, very little kept him from poking his face in on most days, if only to hear the excited babble and watch small hands reach for him), when Clarus was busy and no one could soothe the crying, Regis would step in and get the boy calm again. Where his small head would rest against the breast of his coat and Regis would hum to him melodies he can only remember half of. He knows he's attached to him, despite everything and only finds himself willing to hand the child off when his father would arrive. And that was only because he didn't want to get angry, scare the baby and have him cry whenever Regis showed his whiskered face at him.

Clarus doesn't push much, no matter how often Regis was sure he would at least force an issue and didn't. At least he didn't until the man walks in on the Marshal being flat on his back with the king riding him slow and dirty. Then there were things murmured under his breath and Regis finds himself the subject of glares from the the large man whenever he speaks quietly to Cor.

Gladio is only six months old when he is standing at a window in his office, his hands folded behind his back and Clarus silently looking over something at his desk. He takes a peek at the tense form under the suit, shoulders set in a way that had to ache and sees the glare from blue eyes lingering on the mark on the edge of his chin and he finally is annoyed enough to broach the bridge himself. 

"You don't get to be angry, Clarus," he says, unfolding his hand to stay the expected snap back with a lift of one, "we are not together. Who I lay with is none of your concern. You should put your energy towards your son instead of being angry at your king."

There is a moment of silence, before he feels the air crackle and knows that Clarus is moving from the desk to stand near him - behind him, slightly to the left. He catches the man's reflection in the window once more and raises a black brow at him, ignoring how tired he is of Clarus acting like a scorned child.

"I don't get to be angry?" Is the quiet grumble that comes from behind him. "I don't get to be angry that you're slowly replacing me?"

"I'm not replacing you," Regis says calmly, brows furrowing and chest heaving in a sigh. "I've not once told you to _leave_. The only time I actively yelled at you was when it first came to light. What am I supposed to do? Simply remain celibate for the rest of my life? Or were you expecting me to just roll over and eventually roll my way back to you begging to have you in my bed again? Or did you think that it would magically blow over and I'd forget that while I can trust you with my life, there's not much else I can trust you with?" His voice thundered through the room by the end, his anger vibrating his form under the cloak and his green eyes fixed on Clarus's and takes so much satisfaction in the way the man flinched as if he actually struck him. "I've been rather civil with all things considered."

"There's no excuse for what happened," Clarus murmured, apology in his voice, his broad shoulders slumping and looking much smaller than he has ever had. "There's not enough ways to apologize either."

"No shit," Regis snorts, eyes rolling as he sees a small smile on his face and can't help but mirror it in his own way. "You're simply very lucky I'm fond of Gladiolus."

"I am," the older man agrees and moves to stand next to Regis, tall and strong and maybe Regis can admit to missing his company to himself. "Why Cor, though? Anyone, you could have _anyone_ and you picked a friend of ours."

"Pettiness," he returns with a smug smirk, enjoying the glare he receives, "that, I wanted something familiar that wouldn't betray me and honestly, I wondered how long it would take you to blow your cool once you found out."

Clarus snorts at him, eyes rolling at his king. "Are we even now?" 

"Not yet, maybe sometime soon, old friend."

It's a little like forgiveness, but they both know that it will take more time to sort things out.

8  
There is an assassin in his room one minute and the next he has the man pushed against a wall, trapped there. The magic he's using is wearing on him, but he makes himself hold on until the the Crownsguard take over and get the body out of his quarters. Clarus was at the door from the beginning, eyes hard and studious, hanging back and waiting for everyone else to leave. Truly Regis just wanted everyone to leave so he could rest on the edge of his bed until his knees and hands stop shaking and he doesn't feel like fainting. He doesn't order them out, he refuses to show his weakness and keeps himself still.

It takes a full hour for them to leave and it is only because Cor forced them out, with blue eyes lingering on his king and the vague worry under the wall of ice. Regis sees the long look he gives Clarus on the way out from the corner of his eye, but doesn't ask what it meant. But shortly after the older man is shutting the doors behind him and watching as the king sits finally, gingerly, on the edge of his bed. He probably even picks up the shaking of his hands and the way his brow furrowed just slightly in pain.

No words are spoken to Regis as he finds himself carefully pushed back, to get him further on the bed and has his hands rubbed free of the pins and needles by large, rough and calloused digits. There is the prickle of heat that radiate from fingertips and he makes a sound of relief when it drives the feeling back into him.

"When did the shaking start?" Is what breaks the silence, "why haven't you gotten anyone to look at it and suggest something to try and help? Your father had medication for that." He sounds so worried and Regis wants to pull him forward and rest against his chest until the room stops feeling like it's the one trembling.

Instead, Regis gives Clarus a long, hard look and bluntly says, "because I'd like to put that off as long as I can." He closes his eyes and he knows even without them open that there is anger flavoring the look he gets. It's not at him, no, he knows that the source of the others anger was the crystal and he doesn't know how to soothe such a thing without making it even worst. 

"It doesn't happen often," he explains and feels a large hand rubbing through the cropped hair atop his head, he wonders if it's because the man wanted to remind himself that he is still young - they both were. He doubts Clarus believes him either way, so he thinks it's not something that matters more than the brief thought given to it.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at the taller man, nodding towards the half of the bed that remained untouched for just over a year and then barks in laughter as Clarus's eyes go wide and he begins to rip his cloak and armor off. They hit the floor with positively no care for the items and his amusement grows when Clarus trips on his haphazardly placed boots, then nearly proceeds to strangle himself trying to rid himself of his under shirt. Down to his boxers, he watches as the man tries to dodge getting his feet wrapped in his clothing and move around the bed to where his spot was supposed to be. The bed jumps under the force that Clarus dives into it at and Regis only laughs harder as he feels arms snaking around his waist and pulling him into properly laying on the bed.

"Don't you think you're being too presumptuous, Clarus?" Regis murmurs under his stuttering chuckles and when he finds teeth pressed up against his neck while hair tickled his neck while he shook his head in a negative. Soon after he feels lips kissing behind his ear and Regis melts into the bed under the attention. 

He's missed this so much and lays his head against an arm, eyes closing and fights with himself not to get angry at the situation he found himself in. His father was the same, the wall taking its toll in small ways that only got worse over time. He had been wheelchair bound by the time he died, legs too weak to hold himself up and he needed help with just signing his name across the bottom of a paper.

"Regis," Clarus tries to say but his words seemed to be stuck in his throat and voice thick with his concern, but they bring him back to the present and he can't deny he loves him a little more for it. " _Regis_."

"I know, love, I know."

9  
On the day of what was perhaps the most hastily slapped together wedding ceremony in all the history of the Lucian family, Regis feels like he's going to die. Not even figuratively, his body is choosing right that exact moment to throw him into a constant loop of pain and numbness. 

(He hates how it feels, it's so familiar and he doesn't want it to be that.)

Standing is hard and as his attendant fusses with the formal attire - harder to put on when he can't even stay upright for longer than two minutes. The woman is dismissed when it's clear that it won't get much further along without him resting.

(His breathing picked up and he wanted to just say fuck it, find Clarus just to hide his head under his chin and shake there until there is nothing but them left. He can't, because even though neither of them are women - there are still traditions that they should follow.)

Wishing the pain would pass enough that he could focus on something other than what the source of it could be, that he won't expect to find his legs soaked again with water or blood whenever he looks down at his, for once, white pants. 

A knock has him lifting his head, a questioning sound on the tip of his tongue before he hears Clarus's voice. There are people - staunch traditionalists, undoubtedly - telling him he can't be there and he has to wait, bad luck and all that but they're silenced when he hears the shrill voice of Gladio wanting to be let in either way. 

Putting on a brave face, he gets up and out of his chair reminding his body that he is barely 30 and he is by no means weak. He will persevere and stand tall no matter how much his body rebels against his wishes. By the time he reaches the door he can hear Gladio telling someone that he wanted to see Regis and Clarus murmuring that they should all know better than to try and tell a _three year old_ half raised by _His Majesty_ what he can and cannot do.

Opening the door has Gladiolus instantly at his legs and hugging himself around one of them, he sets a hand on his head and brushes through brown waves. "The tradition can allow us a little leeway, can't it? Neither of us are a woman, there's already a child involved and I could use the help." He doesn't actually wait for them to give him an answer and motions for Clarus to come into the room while he tried to detach the three year old from his legs. He knows Clarus closes and locks the door slow enough that the people outside could hear the click nice and clearly. It is a petty and defiant move from his Shield and he is a little proud of him for it.

"He's not even dressed yet," Regis tuts getting a good look at the toddler and becoming mildly annoyed with whomever was in charge of the brown haired bundle. They couldn't even get him out of the clothes he had decided to wear so not to ruin the pristine white of his own formal attire. He picks the boy up with only a little trouble and carries him towards the old wooden dresser that would let him set the boy down at a height where he could at least try and tame the boys hair and not cause himself as much discomfort as it could have.

"He wanted you to do it," Clarus tells him, offering him the small hanger with Gladio's clothing, the ornate sash in a foral pattern that Regis knew only a few others would wear in the upcoming ceremony. Regis takes it and sets the clothing next to the boy, smoothing out a small lapel before he turns his attention back onto the spoiled child in front of him.

"Did they even give him a bath?" Regis asks airily, making a face when he finds a leaf in the boy's hair and holds it in front of the boy's face questioningly, "did you take a bath?" Gladiolus grins deviously, shaking his head proudly and Regis can't help but laugh under his breath. "I take that as a no." He narrows his eyes when he spots a smudge of dirt on a cheek and then rolls them when the child's hands pulled him down enough that he could pat his bearded cheeks affectionately.

"Clarus, go run the water," he orders over his shoulder and takes the quiet footfalls as him following it. "Gladiolus, you can't go out there with a dirty face," he chides the boy gently, "or out there dressed in muddy clothing." He snorts again when the boy grapples for his cheeks again and whines unhappily at the idea. "As it is, I'd rather go fishing than be doing this." 

"Can we then?" The dark eyed boy begs with a grin and for the first time since he woke up, Regis is not worrying about anything but the smile of the boy. It is a good feeling and helps him ignore the stabbing pain in his side.

"Not today," he tells the boy and picks him up when Clarus comes back with jacket missing and black sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Gladio whines and pushes at his shoulder so he could get down and Regis thinks he hears complaints of Gladiolus being a big boy. It makes the king pause and murmur something under his breath about how he sorely doubted any Amicitia is considered anything but big that goes thankfully unnoticed by his precious cargo, but not by the large man who grins roguishly at him.

For all Gladio complains, he goes rather easily into the bath tub and when Regis tells him he'll be sending Clarus in to wash his hair in twenty minutes, there's some happy chatter and it gets him to shake his head before closing the door half way and near instantly grabs for Clarus blindly. The second blind grope has the older man next to him in a flash, putting hands on his hips and steadying him.

"We can postpone it," Clarus suggests almost instantaneously, brows twitching up in concern, but Regis shakes his head and claws his Shield's back just to drive his disapproval home. "Regis-- you can't go out there like this. You look ready to faint." There's a protective hand at the back of his head and it's pressing his weight more firmly against the solid rock that the other had from years and years of training and having his back.

He wants to complain like the young boy in the bath, but he doesn't and instead grits his teeth and shakes his head in a negative.

"We'll do it today. Who knows how long we'll have before the child decides they want out? We will walk out together, you'll be right there if anything should happen." He huffs and he feels Clarus deflate slightly. 

"And Gladio?" Clarus asks softer, fingers stroking at the back of his head gently, because the boy is supposed to come out after Clarus, but before Regis, "are we just going to let him come out with us as well?" Regis smiles and nods, enjoying the puff of amusement he feels warm against his temple. 

He is lead to a chair, gently set down into it and Regis finds Clarus's large hands unbuttoning his shirt without asking. Callused fingers are gently stroked around the large arch of his belly and despite the delighted noise Clarus makes when the child lashes out towards the touches, he has to grunt and push at his shield so he wouldn't cause him more undue pain. 

"That hurts more now than you'd think," he grumbles and Clarus at least looks worried over it. "Get me the painkillers."

Clarus gives him a long look and frowns, because they have only now figured out which one he can take and Regis never really got any of the relief it was supposed to provide. But there is no hesitation in his movements as he heaves himself up and twists to get him the bottle set near the mantel he'd be wearing that night. 

It is white, like his suit, shoulders much the same as they were as his other one, but the thick white fabric is much different than the softer black he was used to and made it heavier. He could assume the fabric was chosen because it would draw eyes away from his thick middle and instead to his shoulders. He takes his eyes of it as Clarus stops in front of him, holding out two pills and a glass of water and instead peered up at him with a slow smile.

"Thank you," is muttered before he slaps the pills to the back of his throat and drinks half the glass of water in a few gulps. When he sets the glass next to him he realizes that Clarus is back on his knees in front of him and putting his strong hands to work rubbing out knots in his ankle. When they find a sore spot, Regis mumbles a pained gasp and then slumps with relief as it's worked out.

"Regis," Clarus starts, voice thick and low - as if readying himself to impart a secret to him, "this will pass, won't it?"

"It will, I suppose," he replies thoughtfully and flicks a hand through Clarus's bangs, unable to hide a snicker as he sees the beginnings of a bald spot, "I'm young yet, the wall won't fall and this child will come. I will pull through. You need not worry about it too much, love." 

"Telling me not to worry is only going to make me worry more," Clarus grumbles back, grabbing the hand shifting through his hair to layer a kiss upon the place where he'll be wearing a ring of the other's choosing in a few hours. "I have reason to worry as well, you're not all sunshine and rainbows healthwise."

"I don't think one would ever be able to call me 'sunshine and rainbows' in any context, Clarus." His snark is returned with an exaggerated roll of blue eyes and and a gesture of his large hand that reminded him fully of a flourish that was not unlike one that would follow a sarcastic bow and croon of _yes, your Highness_. 

Green eyes light up in his amusement, twinkling in the light of the early afternoon sunlight pouring in from large windows flanked with rich velvet curtains and Clarus is beautiful in it. Not many would use that to refer to the man who towered over most, but it was true and Regis found himself struck by it. It's only when the child inside him decides to kick extremely hard at Clarus's hand that Regis manages to tear himself away. 

By the Six, it _hurt_ when the baby reminds them that it has yet to die - an incredibly strong child, Regis thought on - and always, always took to kicking or punching at the large hand rested on his belly. It would be quiet and still, other people's hands that he allows cause no reaction. But it is the moment Clarus touches him any where around his abdomen that has him feeling like his insides are a well used punching bag.

Once, he had the baby making its displeasure known when there had been an emergency that needed to be settled and Regis could not do it, so Clarus went. They had been talking with another Council member over it when the bloody child decided it would kick him any time Clarus mentioned he was leaving.

It had took Regis a bit to realize what the causation was for the assault, but once he had... he had slumped into a chair, grappling for a pen and paper while he scribbled down orders for Clarus to shut the hell up about it. There had been a look of absolute _delight_ on the mans face before it tapered off into sheepish apology and spent the rest of the conversation avoiding his trip.

"One day, I will be told there's a way to let another man feel the pain I'm in," he growls from between gritted teeth as the baby lashes out again, "and you, my friend, are first in line to try it and find out."

Clarus, the bastard, just grins at him like he's the reason the sun rises every day and it softens his own gaze. "A royal decree?" He sounds amused mostly, ducking down to kiss just above his navel and before allowing himself to start getting up to gather the wet boy singing off-key to whatever children's show theme song had he'd taken a fancy to, out of the tub and to the king to ready him for their short walk to where the ceremony is held.

"For you Clarus? No, only the promise of one man to another."

They both laugh and Regis swats at his Shield, enjoying the brief moment of companionship before he is buttoning what the other had undone and tucking the black fabric into his pants. Clarus sighs, deep and long before the man got to his feet and padded away to go help the cheerful child wash his hair.

He gets himself standing, a feat made hard by how his center of gravity had shifted and more so, if he were honest, how wide he was compared to normal.

(Telling Clarus he doesn't know how the older man could stand sleeping with him only happened once and Regis is hesitant to admit how much he liked the reaction it had gotten. Offended and then down right stonefaced before he was pushed flat against the bed and told to stay still. He doesn't think there was a part of him left untouched after Clarus was done with him, one hand always knotted in his and purposely shifting the Ring up and nearly off in his defiance.)

Regis smiles to himself, glad that the pain was receding - finally - though for how long was always going to be a gamble. He goes to get the small suit that Gladiolus will be wearing and holds it at his side as he peeks in on Clarus washing his sons hair.

He's complaining loudly, the boy is and Regis can't help but find himself almost sickened with how much affection over takes him when Gladio splashes Clarus in the face with soapy grey-water. He's never seen the older man mad at his son and this time is no different, but he does chide the boy in low tones that remind him of how often of an occurrence it was to have that voice directed at him.

Regis has come along way from the five year old boy in the pink dress, spitting fire at everyone who tried to tell him he was wrong. From the preteen who was just learning to control his anger and that his words were a weapon that he needed to use sparingly, that he filled a room despite the small stature of his physical being and that was so much more important. Even the teenager that couldn't spend five minutes alone with Clarus before he ventured to get his Shield on his knees and needed to learn discretion. 

Of course, Regis knows he's not perfect, his tongue is still as sharp as it is made of tempered steel and his frustration bubbles to the surface very easily with hormones running rampant. He still feels small on days when he hears of things going on outside of the Wall and wonders what sort of King couldn't even help his own people. Apologizing meant nothing and it hurt to know he was not inhuman and able to hold the wall any further out. 

On some days he even gave up locking the doors and had Clarus on his knees between his legs making him damn well howl. He still gets scolded for things as well, no matter how often he reminded Clarus that he still spoke to his king.

(He'll never admit to his heart skipping a beat whenever Clarus told him that him being his king didn't matter, that above everything he's just Regis, who laughs too loudly at Cor's bad luck with Chocobos, who spends hours rereading letters from Cid and gets frustrated whenever he smudges the letter he has memorized into being unreadable or the man who steals too large shirts and wrecks them on purpose so Clarus won't attempt to take them back from him. He's just Regis to Clarus, man first and king second and there is never a day where he wants to be King first.)

Clarus is splashed again, pulling back and sputtering and Regis knows it's time to swap out or the man will be going out soaked. He puts a hand on a strong shoulder and snort-laughs at the pained expression he gets from his Shield.

"It seems you're getting more water on you than there is down the drain," he says, grinning and enjoying the glare he gets. "Allow me to try?"

"Feel free," There's a short pause before, "There's only one towel, isn't there?" But he's moving and Regis is able to perch precariously on the ledge of the bath when he's out of the way. 

"You could go ask the lurkers outside to go get you one," Regis suggests, putting the hanger of clothes on the towel bar next to the towel. He squints down at Gladio, who grins up at him and makes like he's going to splash him. "You'll regret that," he warns and is glad that it stops him.

There's a strangled noise from behind him, it seemed to be a mixture of how, why and a distressed sound caught in the back of the Amicitia's throat. Regis glances over his shoulder at Clarus, brows raised and mouth curled up just barely at the corners. " _Clarus_ , go and ask for one of the people outside to get you a towel." His words seem to work this time as it gets his Shield to nod and actually do what he was asked. 

Clarus hasn't come back into the room by the time the Gladiolus is out of the tub and dressed. There's a niggling feeling at the back of his head that he assumes means there was a problem and the older man decided to handle it himself. What he finds instead, with Gladio's tanned hand tucked into his own and so pleasantly surprised, is Clarus with his head tilted back with a towel draped over his face and apparently snoring softly. 

He doesn't bother stopping the toddler from making a mad scramble towards his father and climbing into his lap to snuggle in almost immediately. If anything, he encourages it and smiles when Gladio settles comfortably.

There's a moment when Regis is watching the prone form of the other that makes him wonder how hard exactly Clarus had been pushing himself while Regis was carrying his spawn and suffering for it. It's a sick feeling in his stomach that bubbled to life, because the weight of the kingdom had been shunted onto his stalwart Shield when his job was to support his king doing it. 

When the child comes, Regis tells himself in that moment, he will make sure Clarus rests.

Slowly, he wanders over and strokes at the back of the man's head carefully, smiling when he sees where the tell tale sign of his hair thinning was becoming painfully obvious. He hides the laugh that wants to erupt from him and lets his hand drop to his side while he turned towards the the place where his cape was. 

It's a hassle, but he manages it alone, though when he turns back to the two and they're both sleeping soundly upright in a chair. He almost wishes he could put the ceremony off and instead waste the time sitting quietly until dinner. If Regis willed it, he knew it'd be done, but there is a duty in this and it would be problematic if the Child were to be born out of wedlock. 

However, he does give them an hour to rest while he is relatively pain free and can do the things that Clarus had been adamant on doing instead. There's a bit of sick satisfaction in it, really, knowing that his shield will have his lips pursed and eyes loudly complaining because he is supposed to be taking it easy. There are people who state in awe at their king doing his own security details and speaking in low terms with key people about the changes that would be made to the ceremony for the benefit for all involved.

Regis is still in the middle of talking to Cor when Clarus appears and gives him a exasperated look that has him smiling back at him. Gladio is still sleeping, his head resting along Clarus's collar and a hand fisted into the white fabric of the coat, he can't help the sickeningly sweet warmth that fills him at the sight and the only thing that keeps him from rushing forward is the faintly disgusted noise of the Marshal being subjected to the pair without any sort of protection.

He laughs softly, dismissing Cor to knot his fingers into Clarus's and asks, "shall we brave the crowd then, love?" When the man nods, Regis leads him towards the large double doors and chuckles to himself.

"This is your last chance to back out," Regis hears Clarus say and as the doors swing open Regis laughs like he hasn't in years.

After everything and they are alone, Gladiolus in his room and their own door locked, Regis lets Clarus undress him and snorts as the man spends ample time on his knees smothering his round stomach in kisses. He sort of stops paying attention to it, really, eyes more focused on the ceiling until there's a sharp bite to the tender skin of his hips. He yelps and enjoys the sweet way Clarus pulls himself back up to his feet. 

In minutes, Regis finds himself on his side in bed with Clarus tucked around his back and honestly can't believe people told him when he was younger that married couples had sex on their wedding night. He was more content with settling down to sleep and enjoying the contact.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is born, Clarus gets a vasectomy and beats it into submission, Ignis becomes Noctis's Steward and Iris is born.

10  
Noctis is what they name her and much to Regis's pleasure, she sobs whenever Clarus gets anywhere close to her. It's a strange thing for him to find some glee in, but he supposes it's because of how often Clarus and their dark haired daughter high-fived each other through his abdomen. He can't help it, finding the blue eyes dim with dismay as she screams her head off until Regis is ready to quiet her down with Gladio in toe. He has often sent her other father off to lick his wounds while the king and Gladiolus both get smiles that out shone the noon sun.

Regis almost died giving birth to her, it had been all over the news as he was recovering, that the King was out of the woods and they could stop panicking because both he and the crown princess survived. He remembers that the doctors had ordered an emergency cesarean, that it was the best chance of survival for both child and birthing-parent. He remembers the scared look in Clarus's eyes and how relieved he looked as Regis pulled at the oxygen mask and asked him what happened.

He had been so drugged during the explanation that all he caught was that the placenta had done something and he had begun to hemorrhage. That Clarus was sure he was going to lose everything and Gladiolus had refused to leave Regis until Clarus got Cor to get him out. 

The hysteria, nearly dying and the haunted look that Clarus had anytime he looked at him for a month and a half afterward had him deciding that maybe, this was enough. They had a boy and a girl, they had Heirs to their houses and Regis couldn't afford to take the chance that he could die if they risked another one. His people were too important for him to try again as well, their safety at the top of his list.

Of course, Clarus had suggested he get a vasectomy and Regis laughed at the face he made at it. He had laughed even more as he listened to Clarus make the appointment and the strangely scared look the man had leaving him to go endure it. Regis smothers his brows in kisses and rubs at his shoulders to get him to relax before letting him leave.

Laying eyes on Noctis for the first time was put up on the list of things that Regis would treasure until he died near instantly. The child has Amicitia eyes, blue as the ocean and despite his initial grousing over her using him as a punching bag, he's lost to her will the moment she smiles at him. She has her whole family wrapped around her pinky tight as a wire on a rod and sometimes, when Regis finds himself alone with her, he worries for the future and the unholy terror that could come from such a thing. Clarus would undoubtedly topple under her questions and Gladio already was found inside her crib with her at strange points in the night, Regis dreaded what his own reaction would be to the girl who would be Queen.

(He needed to check the Crystal and by the gods he didn't want too.)

Clarus can't get near her, her crying loud enough to reach outside their private quarters and echo into the hall if he even dared peek his face in. Even if she had previously been sound asleep, especially then really and she is so unusually quiet otherwise. 

There has only been one time where Regis has caught his Shield being allowed to hold their daughter, though he's sure there are more times, but it had been so early in the morning and Regis woke up alone. His brows furrow and he worries for a few seconds that something important drew Clarus away and didn't want to wake his king. He then hears pacing, gentle slaps of flesh against polish floors and a low voice speaking to someone and decides to investigate the reason why Noctis hadn't woken the world with her wails.

He's treated to the sight of black hair tucked against a neck and large hands holding the child so delicately, while the sturdy body sways with every carefully placed step. Regis covers his mouth and ignores the pang of _want_ that hits him from the sight of his Shield and their child.

There has never been a time he has wanted to press his husband against a wall more than right in that second. He doesn't, refuses to break the spell and watches for as long as he possibly could. He hears humming and quiet, gentle words of endearment. Clarus calls her _precious_ , _beautiful_ and truly, the _only_ woman in his life that deserved the same amount of loyalty and love as he gave Regis.

Snorting at that, Regis bites back a comment about the _brand_ of love better be different towards their daughter or Clarus would find himself at the receiving end of his Armiger. He manages to keep the words in his chest and lets a breath stutter as they moved towards the window. Noctis's hair catches the moonlight and she is hoisted further up into Clarus's arms, it's then Regis can see blue eyes open, focused on her father standing in the door and her little mouth around a small piece of the collar of Clarus's shirt, gnawing at it between little rose colored lips.

His heart may have beating for a second, only to restart and beat even _faster_.

Regis sneaks back to bed after a while to save himself from the sight and curls up under the blanket. He is awake still when sunlight is trying to get through the curtains and Clarus finally comes back to bed. He has his eyes closed, but he knows by how much the bed dips that he's there and blindly, he reaches out to drag him forward and over him.

"You're awake," Clarus whispers and kisses his forehead, then nose and finally lips. Regis kisses back and enjoys stripping his Shield bare. He touches everywhere he can and laughs loud enough that when Noctis wails and Gladio rushes into her room with his own loud panicked noises, he isn't bothered and knows it's his fault the children are awake. He only breathes a sigh and pushes himself up to dress himself for the day and leaves the man to groan and sprawl out across the bed.

He thinks about what he saw all day and ends up distracted to the point where Clarus could just smile at him and Regis would lose track of what he was doing. Needless to say, not much had gotten done after he made someone repeat themselves four times and he still hadn't properly understood what was being said.

It's almost midnight when Regis manages to pull himself together, and that only came on the heels of Noctis demanding to be fed and bit his tit hard enough that he nearly taps out and begs for Clarus to bring him the hideous devil machine that masqueraded itself as a breast pump. It's hard to be distracted with Clarus when there's a child attached to ones nipple and aggressively using it as a chew toy for more milk.

Regis loves her something terrible, but he has more than once called her _Hellspawn_ when her teeth are anywhere near his breasts.

She's asleep now, after Regis had wriggled himself back into the sleeves of his robe and fixed fabric cup of the chest prison he's forced to wear so his tender boobs aren't open to anyone who walks in, but the little Hellspawn is asleep and not letting him go. He tries to put her in the crib, but every time her head touches the soft bottom of it her bottom lip wobbles and Regis swears that he is a much stronger man than this as he pulls her back to his chest and bounces her back to sleep. 

He's in the nursery for what feels like hours before Regis admits that he's willing to chance the girl wailing at Clarus, but he is going to lay back in his bed.

There's only a dimmed lamp in the far corner of the room and he can see that Clarus left the heavy drapes of the bed tied back. He undoubtedly fell asleep waiting for him and there's a sickening strike of affection in his heart.

His Shield is on his front, one arm tucked under the pillow and the other sprawled out and reaching for Regis even though he wasn't even in bed. The blanket is slung low over Clarus's back, the shadows dip near obscenely under the blanket, the tops of his hips showing and Regis swears to himself because he is just a man and his husband is very appealing when he can see every muscle lax under tattooed skin. He honestly can't tell if he's even wearing anything under the blanket as he comes to knock his knees lightly against the edge of the bed and lifts the blanket over socked feet. 

There's a grossed out noise as he rearranges Noctis in his grasp and reaches down to pinch the skin of Clarus's ankle, with a bit of dismay at having to interrupt the beautiful scene before him, which gets him a startled grunt and Clarus clumsily turning onto his back. 

Blankets twist and shift, drawing down hips to show a patterned elastic to both his king and child. Clarus is wearing boxers, Regis notes with a sigh of relief, he won't be scarring their daughter this day and really, Regis doesn't even want to think about the repercussions that could unfold from seeing that at a young age by mistake.

Noctis surprises him, sleepily garbling and reaching out for the barely awake Shield squinting up at both with a look of confusion until he finally gets what he's seeing. The little princess makes a happy shriek, much more awake with her other father and Clarus is smiling up at him like he is the sun and the moon.

"Coming to bed?" It's a rough tone and Regis can't help the spike of jealousy that hits him because Clarus had been sleeping and left him to try and get their Hellspawn to sleep. He nods though and holds Noctis out to Clarus to hold, briefly amused by the uncertain look on the older male's face before he takes the child in his arms and almost instantly began to croon at her.

The little daemon takes the chance to settle against Clarus' broad chest and then fall asleep. Regis almost wants to cry, because she was asleep and not screaming at his husbands face, but also quiet and settled without throwing a fit that it wasn't him holding her. Regis wastes no time in climbing into bed, arms shaking slightly before he is face first in his pillow and listening to Clarus whisper to the child right next to him.

It does exactly what it did the first time, the intense want at knowing Clarus was right there and holding the precious bundle of daemon, telling her things and she was no doubt already fast asleep. 

Regis sort of wants to follow. He almost manages it too until the bed dips and shifts with his husband and their child. He's touched and tugged, urged to come closer and he doesn't protest because the man is warm and smells of comfort. So he lifts himself up and rests his head against the pectoral that their daughter hadn't taken and murmurs his approval of being held close.

"Regis," he hears as he starts to drift off, his voice hoarse with emotion, "gods Regis, I love you." He murmurs sonething incoherent back, mirrored by the disturbed Noctis and falls asleep to the sound of Clarus's rumbling laugh and more whispered proclamations of love. 

11  
"What do you mean I missed her first word?" Clarus all but yells into Regis's ear, sounding upset while he focuses on making sure Gladio doesn't hurt the little princess by accident. His eyes track the movement of the four year old, taking amusement when a shriek of joy sounded from the usually quiet child.

"You did," he says, pausing for dramatic effect, enjoying the impatience he heard in the others voice, "but so did I. I asked Cor to watch her while I took Gladio into a meeting with me. She said it to him."

" _What_? Why did you-- never mind. What did she say?"

"Gladdy. She yelled it very loudly and repeatedly. Refusing to stop until Cor brought her to him. The council and I were confused as to what we were hearing until Cor brought her inside."

"I'm-- Not papa? Not daddy?"

"That's right, love. Heard it myself, as did half of Insomnia. She was yelling for Gladio."

Clarus sighs and he can hear the ruffle of fabric.

"Is it wrong to be a bit jealous of your first born?"

Regis laughs loudly, choking on his breath as he struggles to stop to continue the conversation with his dismayed Shield. Though he stops short when he sees Gladio standing across the room with a child walking towards him.

"She's walking to him now too."

"Are you fucking kidding me--?! I'm coming home!"

"Of course, love. I'll see you in a week." Regis says as he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder to walk over to the pair of children, swooping in just in time to catch the princess before she fell. Gladio clapped his hands jovially.

"Regis, let me come home to see this."

"I'm not sure, what do you think Noctis? Do you want Gladdy or Daddy?"

"Gladdy!"

Clarus swore and Regis lost it.

12  
Cor is giving him a look from across the room, something like bedroom eyes and amusement all in one. Regis basks in it. He smiles lopsidedly and winks at his younger friend and gets a roll of grey-blue. He can't contain the loud, unattractive snort of humor that comes from the Marshall mimicking a blow job behind the rest of the councils head, but he thinks he saves it by coughing immediately after.

Clarus looks about ten shades of annoyed and another twenty of vaguely amused as Regis glances at him from the corner of his eye. His thighs aches in remembrance of what happened last time his Shield hit his limit and struggles not to exploit it his time. Instead he subtly snags one of the papers Clarus usually had to doodle chocobo's or swords or whatever he could think of and uses his own pen to draw a crude heart and send it back over.

He melts and Regis spares a glance back over to Cor and finds him just looking smug and the king, not for the first or last time, wishes his best friends were a little less of a pair of dunces. Banishing the two grown men's fued out of his mind for the rest of the day from his mind, Regis let's himself get thrown back into the mindnumbing droll of Marius.

Meetings like the one he was being put through take ages, but it does end after they spend two hours arguing over the style of party in which Noctis would be introduced officially to the rest of Insomnia. Regis smacks his hand down hard on the table to silence them and levels the rest a look to keep them quiet.

"Leave the choice of how to me," he tells them, rolling his eyes at the murmured protests when they came, "this meeting is convened. Out." 

He slumps back into his chair and gently bats away Clarus's hand from where it was going to settle on a shoulder. Cor must have left as his Shield has moved from his seat to lean up against the table next to him and Clarus is practically vibrating as he checks his phone.

"You're moving the table," he points out, shoving at Clarus's thigh, "this table is bolted to the floor, might I add."

"Gladiolus gave Noctis chickenpox," Clarus states. "We'll have to keep them away from you until she's clear. Don't want to risk you finally catching it if your last cold was any indication." He's humoring him and it does take the edge off the spike of worry for the children.

"Staying with your mother then?" He queries and tries very hard not to smile at his husband. "I suppose I'll be losing you as well. Can't expect anything else when it involves you being away from our children. Too long away though and I might forget what you feel like. Perhaps find a new bedwarmer."

Clarus scoffs and sets his phone down away from the edge of the table, sliding it up the table a bit to be safe and that has Regis raising his brow.

"I honestly hadn't thought that far ahead," he admits and reaches out to brush his fingers across his scalp and makes him hum low. Clarus shifts on the table to sit directly in front of him and smiles at him with all the love in the world written across his face.

"We'll discuss it later then?" He asks and then laughs as Clarus nods and pulls on his robes to open them up.

They don't end up discussing it at all.

It's a little moot anyways as it's only a day later Regis has a fever and is covered in little pock marks. Clarus is shoving medication down his throat. The next 10 days have their bedroom turned into a quarantine in which at least at one point Regis finds himself with oven mitts duct taped around his wrists to stop him from scratching. Noctis had been forced into much the same fate only it was a pair of smooth winter mitts.

He tries to bribe Gladio - who was technically free a few days ago - to do the scratching for him only to find out that Clarus had already bribed him to not scratch Regis.

Regis very much wants to stage a rebellion. Instead he suffers gracelessly in ratty boxers and one of Clarus's t-shirts in a cocoon of smooth blankets that doesn't satisfy the itch he had, while his youngest whined and cuddled into his chest. He vaguely remembers that he mayhave actually once bitten Clarus's hand at one point.

It is not one of his more better weeks.

When it's all over and he is standing under the spray of the shower, scrubbing at the scabs left over and watches them bead red when he picks too hard, Regis decides that he is not a fan of the chickenpox. Regis still has a slight cough and knows that his supposed suffering was nothing. He honestly just finds himself glad it hadn't been as bad as it could've been. 

He gets shaken from his thoughts as Clarus suddenly crowds into the stall behind him and kisses each scar he can find on his shoulder.

"Kid's are in bed," his Shield murmurs against his neck, teeth lightly pressing into the skin just to feel the give of it. "My mother said she'd take them for the next week so we can catch up. The council also looks forward to their babysitter returning."

Regis guffaws at his partner and sinks back into his chest. He's looking forward to retreating to his office with Clarus. He knows they'll end up passed out on the couch in it and sleep until noon the next day. They'll kiss with their morning breaths and laugh quietly as they enjoy their peace.

13  
Regis decides one day, watching a seven year old Gladiolus rush at Clarus with a wooden sword, that his children need another child around. Noctis is cheerful and all smiles, holding Gladio's hand at any given time, but she had to be lonely. And at that age he had Weskham tending to him, though the boy was only a few years older... well he settles it with himself and chooses to start laughing hysterically when Noctis comes out of no where and tackles an unsuspecting Clarus, knocking him off balance enough for Gladio to get a nice whack in.

He starts the process the next day and has to stop himself from laughing at Clarus any time he turns toward him. It's with stifling a low chuckle that he tells Clarus of his decision to find someone to be closer to Gladio's age and to start being his steward, as Weskham had been his.

"Not a bad idea," is what Clarus tells him, scrubbing at the dark bruise across his right cheek as he thought. "Are you aiming for a child within the Nobility?"

"Not exclusively. I was toying with the idea of someone from lower positions, it would bring the children a bit of humility." Regis thumbs at the names of parents with children in the upper ranks on the paper before him. "I'm looking at both male and female children, do you have a preference?"

"Boy," Clarus tells him and hooks his chin over a shoulder carefully, leaning towards his cheek to dot a fond kiss that leaves Regis with a smile as he grabs the pen. "If you're looking for Gladio to make a connection, definitely a boy. A girl would be treated much how Noctis is."

"A little girl in need of protection?" 

"Yes, that."

"Most of these are female baring couples in that range." Regis marks next to their names with an red X, dotting the pen in thought as Clarus sighs again.

"We could get them a playdate," Clarus suggests and begins withdrawing to get ready for their next meeting. Of course that meant smoothing Regis's clothes for him and getting in the general way.

"What? All of them? At once? Are you _insane_?" Regis asks, finally relinquishing his pen and turning toward the older man with his brows drawn tight. 

"Yes, best way to see which one fits with the kids, don't you think? Do you have any better idea?" Clarus pauses and grins at him rougishly. "And if I'm insane, that would be your fault." 

Regis smacks him lightly on the shoulder, lips pursed together. 

"You'll regret that," he says instead of the very colorful language he was thinking of using for his husband and finally jutts his bottom lip out in a slight pout.

"Only as much as I regret loving you," Clarus singsongs, stepping back to straighten his own robes once more while Regis gave him a flat look.

"You don't regret that. At all."

"Exactly."

Regis groans and Clarus laughs, leading him to the next meeting with a large hand on the small of his back.

Luckily, there is no need to have a giant playdate with rowdy six and seven year old boys that were hopped on some form of sugar. He could already see them carelessly rushing passed the four year old princess and possibly hurting her, or upsetting her by picking on her... Even worse, rousing the ire of Clarus when she went to him in tears saying they were ignoring her.

Instead, they find the next Steward after Aeneas Scientia receives a call in the middle of a meeting and requests the option to leave and return as his visiting nephew seemed to have disappeared from the nanny's general vicinity. Regis grants it, sharing a look with Clarus and promptly ends the meeting suggesting they all help.

Aeneas doesn't question why the king offered, but he is not complaining or rejecting it on grounds that he's the king and Regis appreciates it more than he probably should. 

They search and search and search. They get the Crownsgard involved, the Glaives and every member of staff they can reach and still can't find him. The Scientia is furious with himself so clearly and Regis admires the private way he's handling his rage. If it had been Gladiolus or Noctis lost, well, Regis would be far less composed and Clarus would be ready to assault the Nifleheim army on his own with instant thought that they were at fault.

Regis honestly has to stop himself from thinking that way and consoles the Scientia the best he can.

They send out alerts via a press conference and he knows there will be backlash for him chosing to do such a thing, but he knows how hell remedy it -- soothe the outrage with a simple action. But for the moment he can't help but think about the what-ifs.

After unfruitful hours of searching, the search is called off due to it being dark and the lateness of the hour. Regis is tired and aching, hands shaking as he slumps into the wall next to the door. Clarus is on his knees instantly, carefully shifting to get his king's shoes off and then his own. Regis slides a hand down the curve of Clarus's jaw and gives a mostly affectionate pat before he sighs.

"Set the alarm for dawn," he says, voice fatigued but fighting to stay steady, Clarus begins to open his mouth and Regis really doesn't want to hear the worry for him when there was a child missing, so he slides two fingers into his mouth and presses down on his tongue. "I will be out there with them. The boy wouldn't be missing if I hadn't been monopolizing Aeneas with this." 

He rolls his eyes as Clarus out right glared at him for the words that came out of his mouth. In retribution he sticks the fingers deeper and smiles when his shield growls around them. 

"Please," he tries instead, knowing that he doesn't usually ask for things with that word. And when he does, it is definitely not in this sort of situation. He can't help but chuckle when Clarus's eyes dialate and he swears he can see the exact moment when his friend realized that his automatic reaction was unwholely inappropriate. There's such a nice pink hue dashing across the tops of his cheeks and Regis sighs contently as he slides his fingers from the wet mouth. "I can't help but think of what would happen if it were our own. So, I ask again, love. Please set the alarm for dawn." 

Clarus relents and stands, cupping the side of Regis's face and leaning down to give him a careful kiss. The king beamed under it, eyelashes fluttering and he has to stop himself from walking his taller consort against the wall and drowning his worries in his kiss. Instead, he carefully pries himself off and pats his cheek again.

"I need to make sure they're in their rooms."

After a slow nod, Clarus scrubs his hand through the hair at his back of his neck and lets Regis go, being maybe two steps at most behind him. 

Gladio is sound asleep when they look in on him, cuddling a teddy bear that he had, as of that morning, declared he was too old for. Regis can't help but get closer and smear a kiss to the boys forehead, smiling as the little Amicitia snuffles towards him and gives him a nuzzle as if he knew exactly who it was even in his slumber.

He's shaken from his affection as Clarus starts making noises that sounded both disbelieving and distraught before he demands Regis come look at this. Fear rises in his chest and he almost flies towards where Clarus is standing to push him aside to take a gander at what his partner had seen.

Noctis is asleep, yes, but she is not alone. There's a boy brushing through her dark hair almost like he was born doing exactly that and keeping the three year olds weight on top of himself easily. The girl had her fist wrapped in the boys shirt and clung to him like a second skin. There would be no getting the boy away from her until she was either awoken or given something of equal value to cuddle.

His daughter was a dragon, he realized distantly, a dragon that hoards people instead of gold. Regis sighs and tries very hard not to throw something at Clarus, who made a strange choking noise and drew his gaze to him. The bastard was smiling at him, teeth bared and he was stifling a laugh at his husband. Seconds later, he comes to the conclusion that he called her a dragon outloud.

"I'm not wrong," he hissed in his own defense as he crept closer to get a better look at the two.

"You're not," Clarus agrees, face reddening in his efforts on trying very hard not to crack up laughing at the child and her new friend. There were only tiny giggles and occasionally snorts, so Regis gives him a few points in his attempt to control himself in the face of their dragon-child. 

Regis hears a stifled noise and turns back toward the bed to stare at the very awake boy continuing to pet his daughter. 

"You're Ignis, aren't you?" he whispers gently, shaking his head as he gets a nod returned, as the young boy tried very hard not to disturb the slumbering dragon latched to his front. "...I'll let your uncle know you're safe." He proceeds to leave, Clarus following him finally failing at containing his laughter.

They reach the room and Regis calls Aeneas to apologize and explain the situation. Then suggests the idea of Ignis becoming the girls steward, that they'll talk more in the morning and he will make sure that Ignis is returned to him safe and sound.

Clarus has stopped laughing for the most part and was half way out of his shirt when Regis calls their own nanny. It's a short, terse conversation and he fires her. The man made a loud noise as he hung up and he stared at Clarus daring him to ask him why.

He doesn't and only makes another confused sound as Regis calmly began to undress.

"Clarus, Ignis was in the Citadel," he says conversationally and pulls off his under shirt. "How would he have come into Noctis's possession if he was there? Especially with a nanny watching him."

"I'm not quite following, Reg," Clarus admits and sits on the edge of the bed to pull his socks off.

"Clarus, our three year old snuck out of here and came to the Citadel. Promptly stole the boy back here. All without the woman's, who was supposed watching her mind you, knowledge."

"That's your genetics, Reg. She didn't get that from me. She was holding onto him in a way that reminded me an awful lot of you." He threw his belt at Clarus and glared. "We'll look for a new one in the morning, promise."

"Ask your mother to come in in the meantime," he mumbles and flops face first into the bed. 

He feels a hand brushing through his hair and groans when it tightens to pull his head from the comforter. Clarus clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shifts to get closer to him. Regis curves himself into the heat and sighs.

"She's safe, Reg," Clarus mumbles and Regis tenses, "you ran naked through the halls to hide behind my mother's legs and nothing went wrong. What's the difference to now?"

"She's the only heir I have," he replied, voice small because he can let himself be terrified around this man. "I kept thinking it was her that was lost, the horrors that could come from that -- she's three and sneaking away, what if next time she's --"

"Reg, _don't_ , she's safe and she will be safe until the dawn comes."

"Dawn isn't as far as you'd think."

14  
The children are gone for the next two weeks, Clarus's mother taking Noctis, Gladio and Ignis to give Clarus a birthday gift. Oh, they will call on the actual day of, call him old and Gladio will tease his father about getting slow. It will be a wonderful thing to watch, with how Regis is sure Clarus will light up and be happy with such a thing. But, for the moment, he is trapped.

Regis is between his thighs, mouth stretched uncomfortably open as he sucks the head of the near obscenely large cock his shield had and Clarus is moaning a new symphony just for him, hands twitching against the rope tying them to the headboard. They are loose enough that if needed he could get free, but he doesn't need that so he won't. No matter how much Regis almost wants him too.

He sucks him off rarely and they both know it, the reason is just Clarus is thick and only can take so much before his jaw feels like dislocating. Regis can't do more than nurse at the head of his cock most times, suckling the tip while his hands were put to use on the rest. 

The king groans when Clarus does, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach and he knows - _knows_ that he wants Clarus to come in some part of him. He wants the bitter against his tongue and he wants Clarus trembling like an earthquake as rambles filth meant only for the man between his thighs. He wants the slow slide if it dripping from his open cunt and Clarus's fingers chasing it to push it all back inside of him. His clit throbs at the idea, two fingers stroking the extended bundle of nerves like it was his own little dick. He loves it.

"Regis," Clarus whines and Regis only stops for a moment to peer up at him to hear what he had to say. He wonders if the birthday boy will go for a low blow once he realizes that he's not the one sliding his fingers across the flesh.

He isn't disappointed.

"I wish-- Regis, I want to fuck your mouth. Hold you still and feed you inch by inch. Your throat would stretch around it, could hold your throat and jerk myself off that way too." His shield is vibrating on the bed, using so much effort not to just get out that Regis is proud of him.

But he also wants him to break.

When he does, Regis has three fingers pushed inside of him and he sucks hard enough that when his teeth scrape against the head, Clarus yelps like he's been hit. Seconds later he finds a hand on the back of his head and there is pressure for him to take more of the cock, to act out exactly what his husband wanted.

"You can take more," Clarus tells him and Regis does. It hurts, but he does. It's only when his vision is spotting black and Clarus has his hand wrapped around his neck like he promised that he comes suddenly, jerking his little dick hard and Clarus pulls him off and lets him lay there against his thigh with glassy eyes.

"I'm going to pay for that," Clarus muses, but Regis just doesn't care as he shakily heaves himself up and seats himself directly on the thick dick, catching Clarus by the mouth and riding him stupid. 

It feels amazing, scraping raw against his still clenching insides and pressure just below his navel and Regis knows he must look wrecked because he still feels the wetness in the corner of his eyes and his throat is like he swallowed sandpaper and glass. He doesn't mind it at all. Especially when he finds himself under Clarus, hips slamming into his own hard enough to shake the bed and teeth biting suddenly into his neck as the man finds his release inside him.

He closes his eyes, smiling and when he opens them, Clarus has moved them and he feels the fingers in him, playing with the come.

"You were serious about --" Clarus starts, silencing himself when Regis lifts a lazy hand up to stop him.

"Yes, you can have me any way you want until the kids come back."

Clarus smiles and Regis snorts with a laugh, before whispering a quick, "I love you," and closing his eyes to the feel of a forth finger entering him and the warm knowledge that his husband was a strange man.

15  
Regis doesn't believe what he's hearing when he's told that they can't go through with the hysterectomy because he's pregnant. He sort of stops hearing for a bit and his mind focuses on the fact that Clarus Amicitia's body beat his vasectomy into submission.

They thought he just had the flu, that he was sick and now he's being told he's not and the worry floods him that it will be a repeat of their precious princess and he nearly died from her birth.

He isn't prepared.

"Do we keep it?" Clarus whispers into his neck later that night, curled around him and he sounds so worried. His hand hasn't moved from over his stomach in the last hour and Regis knows what he's going to choose. They both know it.

"Yes," he chokes out, "even if it kills me."

Clarus clutches him harder and they don't move for the rest of the night.

Gladiolus is happy when he's told, glad he gets to be big brother to someone else while Noctis is less so. She's a jealous thing, angry and snaps her teeth at Clarus when he goes to hold her. She shrinks away whenever they discuss how easy this new child is already because he is not bound to his bed and a walking miscarriage risk. They don't understand it and she understands it even less. 

Noctis doesn't get any better as Regis's pregnancy advances, it's like while Regis was flourishing in a way he hadn't when carrying Noctis - he is energized and happy, the nearly five year old was becoming more furious as the time progresses, sullen and quiet. She snapped more often and Regis bares the blunt end of her wrath.

He's not used to his little daemon being so vicious, or her rejecting Clarus, really. Neither of them are even remotely ready to handle it, even less so when Gladio decided that Noctis's attitude was unacceptable and moreso, worth his ire. The older boy takes to bullying her while she stands her ground and refuses to budge. 

Regis would admire it if it wasn't just a giant headache to stop their now constant fights. Clarus is bursting at the seems in his confusion and adoration for the belly holding the newest child. He touches it at any point, especially when he could get away with it in public.

The child ends up coming 2 weeks before the due date and Regis almost doesn't realize it's over until the doctor tells him he can stop pushing. Tears wet the corner of his eyes because the whole pregnancy was easy, there was no pain, nofalse starts and the baby gurgles at him happily, already proving that they were going to be the opposite of the quiet baby Noctis was.

Clarus holds the babe after he does, enamored and in love all over again, while Gladio crowds his side to get a good look at his new sibling. Noctis stays away staying in a corner of the hospital room playing with a game that held most of her attention. Regis catches the betrayed looks she spares at her other father and has to stop himself from pressing the button for him to be highly medicated.

They name the baby Iris Amicitia. Privately, it's a bid to remind Noctis that she's not being replaced, but he has no idea if it worked or not because the child continued to drift away from her parents and brother.

Iris takes up a lot of Regis's time and he can't help it, the baby was easy and he couldn't believe it was true that he had such a good pregnancy after the hell they went through with Noctis and maybe that's why he's not surprised that he's the one the girl had distanced herself from the most.

It still didn't hurt him as much as it did Clarus.

He watched him be rebuffed by his little girl, hears him complain that Noctis won't go near anyone but Ignis and he wonders what there is to do about that.

It comes to a head when Noctis is sent home from her kindergarten class with her cheek darkening in a bruise. Clarus picks her up and asks her what happened, while the nanny incharge comes to him and tells him exactly what happens. 

She got into a fight with some other children and she had not stood her ground until they told her that everyone thinks the new kid will be the heir instead of her and she was unneeded. She had launched herself at them and well, by the time the teacher had gotten her off the worst offender, the girl was missing three of her baby teeth.

The five year old starts to tear up in Clarus's arms, cheeks flushing as big blue eyes began to wobble with thick tears. Her soft voice shakes as she speaks. She starts asking why Clarus likes Iris better, why everyone likes the new child better. If she was going to be given away, because she didn't want to go, she wanted her daddy and papa and brother to love her again. Ignis is the only one who still does, she says.

Regis stands there shocked silent and Clarus is not much better. The girls wails louder, taking the silence as admission and well, Clarus instead of calming her down, puts a hand on the back of her head and hugs her tight before he wanders off somewhere with the sobbing girl.

It's hours later, when Clarus returns with a sleeping Noctis still tucked against one side of his neck while there were bags held in his other hand that Regis realizes that Clarus has done something to fix it. 

He's still not expecting when Clarus spends the next week almost always with his arms filled by the girl or the fact that said week is punctuated with Clarus choosing to sleep on the couch with her directly on top of him. The girl is at his heels when she's not being carried and honestly, Regis is weirded out by the fact that the girl waits for him outside of the bathroom wbenever that was needed. Moreso by the fact that _Clarus_ did the same damn thing.

"This is bizarre," Regis tells him while he's waiting outside of the bathroom for Noctis, "you look ridiculous."

"I know," Clarus admits as the wet haired little monster comes out of the bathroom in one of Gladio's old shirts and a pair of shorts, to which Clarus doesn't even wait until she asks to scoop her up. "But I don't mind." 

Noctis smiles at him for the first time in months and Regis's heart skips a beat.

"Hi Papa," she says and nuzzles Clarus's neck. "You can have daddy back in two more weeks."

Regis just stares at his child and then glances at Clarus's face almost about to ask what the fuck. Instead he smiles and nods.

Honestly, he doesn't think he wants to know.


End file.
